


Open Invitation

by thesaddestboner



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Abrupt POV Switch At the End, Crack, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, this is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-14
Updated: 2007-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Kerry Wood and Mark Prior decide to let Matt Clement in on a little bit of the action.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amantegufi711](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amantegufi711/gifts).



> **Original notes:** Yes, technically, Mark Prior should be in Arizona in extended Spring Training, but this is fiction, which is why I've got this nifty little thing called Artistic License. *flashes it* Originally posted on LJ.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I'm only reposting this one because [**owllover711**](http://owllover711.livejournal.com/) asked nicely. And, for some reason, he loves this fic.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Kerry Wood winced as soon as the pitch left Matt Clement's hand. Any professional hitter would put that pitch into the ivy, even a journeyman like Karim Garcia.

"Bad pitch," he muttered to no one in particular.

Mark Prior, the Chicago Cubs' other ace, crossed his legs and tilted his head as the ball left Garcia's bat like it had been shot out of a cannon. "Tough way to lose the no hitter . . . At least it wasn't a bunt," Prior mused.

Kerry grunted in agreement. "Yeah . . . Least it wasn't a cheapie."

Mark Prior nudged his lover in the side with his elbow and tilted his head at Clement, as the right-hander stomped into the dugout and flipped his glove onto the bench.

A look of recognition swept through Wood's fair features, and a smile curved the ends of his lips. "You devil, you . . ."

Prior could only grin.

*

After the game, which the Cubs won in convincing fashion, Mark and Kerry cornered their teammate in the clubhouse.

"Hey Matt, good game!" Kerry said, sidling up to the lanky right-hander and ruffling a hand through his brown hair.

"Yeah, man . . . Great game," Prior agreed, slipping a long arm around Clement's waist.

Matt looked appropriately dazed and confused. "Hmm?" he asked, glancing first at Wood, and then at the injured Mark Prior.

"I'm proud of you, Matt," Kerry said, draping his arm around Matt's shoulders, either blissfully unaware of Clement's discomfort, or pointedly ignoring it.

"Uh. . .thanks?" Matt said, more of a question than a statement of gratitude.

Mark and Kerry shared looks over Clement's head. Prior threaded his index finger through the belt loop of Matt's pants and tugged. "You had a really good outing today," Mark said, giving Matt another tug on the belt loop. "Kerry and I, we think we should celebrate."

"Pri's right," Kerry agreed. "Career high in strikeouts . . . Awfully impressive . . . Not as impressive as twenty, but still impressive nonetheless." Kerry grinned at the sight of Matt Clement's scowl.

"You assh - "

Mark cut Clement off with a kiss, cupping the other man's face in his hands. When they separated, Matt blinked. "Shut up, Matt."

"Yeah, Matt. Shut up." Kerry leaned in and kissed Matt as well, resting his hand on Matt's hip.

When Kerry leaned back, Matt blinked, and his mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out.

"Look, Ker, he's speechless." Mark grinned.

"This is a good thing, right?" Kerry asked, mischievously, his eyes twinkling.

"Of course it is whenever you can render Matt Clement speechless," Mark snickered, swatting an indignant Matt Clement on the back of the head.

"You think making fun of me is going to make me like you more?" he asked, sourly.

"Ah, there's no use hiding it, Matty. We know you love us," Kerry said, motioning to the bulge in Matt's trousers with obvious admiration.

Matt threw his Chicago Cubs windbreaker over his lap, in embarrassment, his cheeks flaming. "Cut it out, you guys." Matt looked at Mark, and then Kerry, trying his best to be threatening. "I'm *married*."

Kerry laughed. "So am I. Your point being . . . ?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "I love my wife? And I have morals?"

"Ouch. He got you there, Ker," Mark noted, nodding in Kerry Wood's direction with an amused smirk.

Kerry glared at Mark and twisted his lips into a grimace. "Did I ask you for your opinion?" Before Mark could respond, Kerry answered his own question, "No. Now let's get down to the important stuf f. . . Like how we're going to reward Matty here for his performance."

Matt looked decidedly nervous at the mentioning of 'reward' and 'performance.'

"I get him first," Mark exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "Me first!"

"He's not a piece of meat, Pri. Settle down." Kerry rolled his eyes.

"Um, I'm not gay either," Matt pointed out.

"Your erection says otherwise," Mark stated, as a matter-of-factly. Matt only blushed.

Kerry stroked his blond goatee, a naughty glint sparkling in his bright blue eyes. "Why don't we share him at the same time?"

Matt raised his hand, as if he was back in grade school. "Excuse me? Um . . . I think you forget that I'm still here?"

"No, we haven't forgotten," Mark smirked. "What would _you_ like, Matt?"

"Like?" he asked.

"As your reward," Mark said.

"For your performance," Kerry cut in. "Ten strikeouts gets you a blowjob from me _and_ a handjob from Pri . . . Wonder what thirteen gets ya. . ."

"I'm not sure I want to participate in this," Matt whispered, as if anyone could overhear the three of them in the deserted clubhouse.

"You'll be sure once Kerry gets his mouth on you," Mark stated, confidently, slapping his companion on the back. Kerry beamed with pride.

"Um . . . I'm not entirely sure I actually want Kerry's mouth on me . . . I like my wife's mouth just fine," Matt stated, nervously.

"Dude, Kerry can suck the brass off a doorknob," Mark insisted. "You don't know what you're missing out on."

Matt arched an eyebrow. "The brass off a . . . doorknob?"

Mark nodded. "Yup."

Kerry echoed in agreement. "Maddy certainly seems to think so."

"Ewwww . . . I didn't need to know that," Matt whined, scrunching his face up in disgust. "Maddy?"

"The one and only." Kerry gloated.

"Ew. Ew ew ew." Matt shuddered.

"Now, are we doing this or not?" Mark asked, his index finger still hooked in Matt Clement's belt loop. He tugged a little harder on it now, and Matt stumbled into him.

"Stop that. You're going to rip my pants," Matt complained, mildly.

"And if we're going to do this, we certainly can't do it here," Kerry noted, as Joe Borowski emerged from the showers clutching a bar of soap in one hand and a bottle of shampoo in the other.

"Hi guys." Borowski greeted the three starting pitchers with a warm, friendly smile. His eyes flickered over Mark's hand and Matt's hip, and he rolled his eyes. "Not here, okay guys? You know what Baker said the last time you - "

"Yeah, yeah," Kerry interrupted the veteran closer with a wave of his hand. "We've got it take care of. No need to worry."

Sated, Borowski moved on to his own locker stall, and was soon replaced by Carlos Zambrano.

"GOOD GAME, MATTY! GOOD GAME!" Carlos slapped a large palm on Matt's shoulder, staggering the other man. "You were on _fire_!"

"Ow . . . Thanks, Carlos." Matt managed, with a weak smile.

"If you pitch like that all the time, we'll _never_ lose!" Carlos skipped off, and finally, the starting three were left to their own devices.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand." Kerry urged, giving Matt a little shake with his arm. "I think we all know you want to."

Matt tried to ignore the strange feeling in his groin, but it was not working. After a long pause, he finally said, "Uh . . . You promise you won't tell Heather about this?"

Kerry and Mark shared naughty winks. "We promise!"

*

Mark undressed first, and then went to help Kerry, while Matt sat on the edge of the bed. Mark lifted Kerry's t-shirt off and tossed it onto a chair beside the hotel bed.

Matt swallowed hard.

Kerry unbuckled his belt on his own, with relative ease, and Mark's hands dove for his fly, unxipping his pants and pushing them down his hips.

Matt blinked, repeatedly, as if he couldn't believe this was actually happening to him.

Mark and Kerry joined Matt on the end of the bed and smiled widely at him.

"You ready?" Kerry asked, rubbing a hand down Matt's back, while Mark began to stroke their teammate's bare arm.

Matt swallowed again. "Y-yes . . ."

Mark leaned forward and caught Clement's lips with his own, catching the other man by surprise. Kerry also leaned forward, moving his lips near Matt's ear, nibbling on the earlobe gently.

Matt sighed.

Kerry trailed his lips down Matt's throat, pressing him down, into the pillows, wrapping one leg around Matt's leg, while Prior did the same with his other one.

"Do you like this?" Mark teased Matt's navel with his tongue.

Matt tried to respond, but only managed a weak whimper.

"I take that as a yes." Kerry slid his hand down Matt Clement's bare chest, into his boxers.

Matt gasped.

"I think we've rendered the poor boy speechless for the second time in one nigh t. . . That's a record, I do believe," Mark grinned into Matt's mouth, and bit down gently on his bottom lip.

"Um . . ."

Mark straddled Matt's hips and Wood tossed him a package of condoms. "Do you prefer Ribbed for Her Pleasure or Glo-in-the-Dark?"

Matt scowled. "I'm not a girl."

Mark Prior grinned wickedly. "Glo-in-the-Dark it is."

*

Matt Clement lay splayed out on his back on the bed, his hair stiff with sweat and sticking in a million different directions.

Kerry Wood's legs were resting in his lap, and Mark Prior was nude, spooned against his back.

"Wow," was all Matt could say. "Wow."

"Good, huh?"

"Now I know what you guys do on your days off," Matt exclaimed, still staring at the ceiling. His body ached in a billion different places, but this time, it was a goo d kind of pain.

"Are you going to be more inclined to join in now?" asked Kerry. "There's an open invitation . . . Thirteen strikeouts or not."

Matt craned his head to look at his two sleepy eyed teammates. "I might just have to take you up on that offer."

The three men shared a hearty laugh before resuming their activities.

The three men would have been shocked had they noticed Carlos Zambrano's form lurking in the hallway, peering in from the slightly ajar door.

Maybe they'd invite him along next time.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
